


Even When The Monster Is Not There

by AllHailProHeroThirteen04102016



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Amnesia, Can be read as implied/referenced racism or homophobia, Demon Deals, F/F, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Otome Game-ish, noble/commoner, villainess - Freeform, written in 30 minutes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:35:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29819517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllHailProHeroThirteen04102016/pseuds/AllHailProHeroThirteen04102016
Summary: Marianne woke up confused and concerned for the injured children in front of her.But for some reason, they all fear her...?
Relationships: Original Character(s) & Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Even When The Monster Is Not There

**Author's Note:**

> A random idea!

When she woke up, the world spun and she had a splitting headache. Like someone bludgeoned her with a semi-blunt object.

She stood up on shaky legs, only to meet the frightened eyes of children in armor.

"Oh, goodness!" She gasped, having near-completely forgotten concern for her own condition when faced with a bunch of children who are worse off. "What happened?! Will you be alright?" She practically ran towards the party, not noticing how they all flinched back, how one of them tried and failed to grip their broken blades with mangled arms. But she does noticed how much smaller they were all compared to her. "Quickly, tell me where the healers are so I may--"

In a split second, she was on the floor, holding her rib. Ow. She gives her attacker, one of the more able-bodied children, a confused and angry glare. "Wha-why?!"

"What is this trickery, witch?" They spit. Their eyes are bloody and glazed over.

 _Oh,_ she thought, pity and frustration culminating into something protective. They were in so much danger, they must be still suffering the effects! Whatever had happened, it had hurt them all beyond the simple physical aspects. She should know.

Before she can even attempt to placate them enough, she was immediately slammed into the ground by someone. On instinct, she struggled, but froze up when she saw a uniform.

She may not remember much, not even her own name, but she knew that uniforms like that belonged to authority of justice. She slacked her muscles, allowing them to clasp the cuffs on her, but it unfortunately didn't abate the aggressive treatment. Surely, this must be a misunderstanding! Once they get this straightened out, she'll be able to go free and maybe check on the other children.

Speaking of the children... "Please get those children medical attention as soon as possible," she says loudly. "They're extremely injured."

She hears them scoff, but order other men, who just arrived, to attend to the little warrior children. She sighs in relief.

Then winced when they yanked at the chains.

It takes one interrogation and people screaming at her and slapping her for the truth to dawn on her:

She was a criminal. A felon. A real life villain whom had been the cause of so much misery of too many. There are accusations from the priests who claim that her body carries the taint of a demon -- too heavy to be a simple act of sin with them, too light to be one of repeated soul-deep intimacy in sharing a spirit -- that she had created a deal with a devil.

The devil had failed to achieve his end of the deal, therefore it is nullified. It ironically saved her soul, but not her memories.

There are many who cry for blood, but there are also those who are unsure if they should punish someone who is, as of the moment, innocent.

She had temporarily become a medium for the Demon King to wreak havoc on Earth. The Demon King was meant to destroy the kingdom she resided in. It was an unpleasant thought, when she'd seen the kingdom from above, and saw people living their lives, picking up the pieces.

Her name was Marianne. Marianne Felix. None of them bothered with her full name. She was now under house arrest, isolated in a certain wing of an unfamiliar building, with no one to interact with but servants.

The servants fear her.

They all flinch when she moves too suddenly, when she speaks.

How can she blame them, when apparently her own voice had been an instrument of death and destruction?

That when the demon had possessed her, the slightly twitch of her slender, fragile hands had choked the life out of one prince?

She can't.

She doesn't even know if she should blame the her who had been driven to that point.

The prince tells her that there's nothing. She had a loving family, she had good friends, a wonderful fiancée, a bright future ahead of her. That she suddenly destroyed everything out of the blue.

(The way they talked made it sound like she was _supposed_ to be happy and sated with what she had. Like it was expected for her. And they were displeased that she wasn't. In place of the prince were a man and a woman who gave her the same look of distaste. She remembers how the second prince was supposed to be her fiancee.

Supposed to, supposed to, supposed to.)

Why should she believe them, when they tell the public with little remorse that she's _still_ a monster who had little reason but all the desire to watch the world burn?

She can't afford to.

( _It's not like what I thought mattered_ , a voice deep in her memories echoed bitterly.)

She implied several times to the servants that she's feeling stuffy. That she wants to go out and feel the sun beyond her windows and go explore beyond her balcony.

It took three months for the second prince, now a king with his father and brother dead by her hands, to approve.

Perhaps it was out of pity. Or for his fondness for his old lover.

In the four months she had been in that cage, she had learned that fiancee didn't always mean lover. That marriage didn't mean love. That knowledge didn't help her remember anything.

She'll take this outing as an opportunity to feel free.

Even if she'll have to wear a disguise with it.

"It's not fair, isn't it?" The king says, stamping the seal of approval on the...Marianne Felix Rhias's informal request.

He scoffed. "No kidding. She gets amnesia just because I hit her head, and she gets away scot free." If he had managed to hit her harder, they'd just be dealing with her corpse. Not this moral greyness that had created too many fights amongst their once-united party.

The party that defeated the Demon King.

"Do you still hear from them?"

"Barely. The bitch is avoiding the topic of _her_ while the stripper is still yelling at me through the magic crystal deliveries. The idiot is still cramming as many criminology and psychology books possible from both the scientific community and temples, so _his_ decision is still pending."

To think that her fate was prolonged just because of _one_ moral dilemma.

"She's different now, you know?"

"Obviously." He snorted. That was evident from the moment she woke up, even when she was hit by one of their own. "But not obvious for the others to see it."

"It truly is unfortunate that they let themselves be blinded by their own prejudice once more." He huffed, eyes cold and angry. But not enough to hide the hurt from his old friend. "That's _precisely_ why this happened in the first place."

The day he met his fiancee, she had immediately told him that she had no interest in his kind, before telling him that he was allowed to find a true lover and partner in other people, if he chose to. At first, he had been offended by how he addressed him as "his kind," as though he was not human.

Then he realized that she never specified on the variables behind his possible future lover.

The swordsman frowned and gave the newly-crowned king a once over. "You know, it's alright to be upset about Marianne."

An immediate denial. "I'm not." Seeing the incredulous look, he amended his statement, still trying to be logical. "I don't have to be. It's not _her._ She wasn't the one who..."

"Every day, I see her on my way to work. She's nice. Normal and shy." He admits. "But every night, I'd still get nightmares about her. How she used to be. I hate her."

"Garen..."

"And it's fine. It's okay to be angry about the shit that happened. To be angry with her. It's okay to acknowledge that shit did happen, and it messed with all of us. With you. You're good at being logical, Isaac, at not letting your emotions everyone else, but neglecting your feelings will just be awful in the long run. You won't heal. Please? Everyone is worried about you."

The king gives him a thoughtful look. "I'll...take that under consideration. Also, are you sure about your decision?"

"I don't have the right to deprive people of second chances, when they're willing to work for it, you know?"

"Not that. The guard situation."

"Ah, yes. Obviously. I just...need to see it for myself."

"...alright. Just don't let anyone see you."

It's a pleasant surprise that she was let out when there was a festival going on.

Coincidence? Perhaps.

Marianne was just glad that everyone looked happy and enjoying their day.

All the way into the night.

Except for that one woman.

She had a plain face with tawny hair set up in a hairdo, and eyes that looked teal in the candle lights. Her skin was the color of ebony, making her look like the black marble statues of goddesses she'd hear about. She should not have caught Marianne's attention in any way. There was no reason to. Marianne would have walked away, because whatever is happening to that woman's life was not any of her business.

But what if she needed help? What if she did not have the means to reach out and cry for help?

Marianne had been extremely sheltered in her four months, but a part of her that still remembered the horrors of the world ached with worry.

This was what hastened her feet towards the still, weeping woman.

"What's wrong?"

"N-Nothing."

By all means, the woman was ugly with that crying face.

But her heart sang. _Beautiful._

Her heart beats faster. "What's your name?"

_I'm hers, she is_

"Amelia."

_mine._

"Well, Amelia, I hear that telling someone why--"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Oops. It sounds as if she'd been pestered about this too much. "Of course, you don't have to. Then, ah, if I can't lend an ear, may I offer a shoulder to cry on?"

The woman was still giving her a suspicious look, but less heated this time. "Why?"

"Why not?" Amelia gave her a look that clearly told her _that's not an answer and you know it._ The expressiveness of the woman's face made Marianne chuckle. "Well, Amelia, I will confess that I had been at first curious as to why someone would be upset on a festive day. But I also did not want to leave someone without knowing if they need help or not."

"I, I don't, stranger." She chuckled, then chuckled more when she caught sight of Marianne failing to be discreet in her little fist-pump of success. "You have been very kind, Miss. May I ask for your name?"

"Mari--" Should she fake her name? Well, it's too late. "Mari. That is what my friends call me."

Amelia made an odd expression. "Mari, short for...?"

Marianne did not have enough brain cells to make up a name on a spot. Instead, she winked. "That's something my lovers learn, dearest."

This incited a scandalized look, then a flustered laugh. "Very bold, Mari!" 

"Aw, you don't want to learn what it is?" Marianne pouted, batting her eyelashes at the amused woman. To her surprise, Amelia grabbed her shoulder and leaned in close.

"Do you?"

Marianne wonders if she knew how mesmerizing her eyes looked like, sparkling with playfulness and happiness. Much better than the ugly crying earlier.

Abort, abort! Mission abort!

"No idea," she admitted, pulling away. "Let's find out tonight?" She offered, holding out a hand.

Bright bluish-green eyes darted between her hand and her face. This woman seems so easy to distract from whatever troubled her, Marianne had no idea how the noisy festivities had failed to drown those out! Amelia beamed, and took her hand. "I'd love to."

The noble woman reflected back her grin. "Then it's a date!"

Near the two women, a figure hides behind a chimney

then keels over laughing too hard.

"Oh my god," Garen laughed behind his fist. He can't. It's still--fuck. "The same person? _Really?"_

Is this fate? Destiny? Adorable?? Sad???

What he does know is that this is something straight out of the trashy romance books he'd read together with the king, back when he was still a second prince.

Fucking hell.

"I _have_ to see where this goes!"

**Author's Note:**

> Comment why you think Marianne had been pushed to that point!


End file.
